Sex, and drugs, and rock and roll

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my first drink in 17 days

It’s that time of year again: my best friend Olly’s birthday. Which equals a messy house party featuring everything in the title of this post, in copious amounts.

I have been sober for 17 days but tonight I return to my old ways. I am disappointed in myself, but the peer pressure is just so strong it’s impossible for me to fight it.

I take my first sip in over two weeks: the coconut liquor lingers on the tongue, the diet cola adding refreshment to an otherwise repulsive cocktail that sells itself as “the original Caribbean flavour.” I wince. At the same time, I relish it. I feel better already. Lifted, boosted, relieved. The relief, wow, I feel the weight disappearing from my heavy shoulders. I take another swig. The brown sugary liquid dribbles down my chin. I laugh. I wipe the excess from my chin, and lick it off my fingers. I am not an alcoholic, I tell myself.

Later, I will tip conspicuous white powder from a tiny plastic bag, rack it up on someone’s iPad, divide it as equally as possible, roll up a bus ticket, and shoot the stuff up my nose. I will feel better than I have felt in weeks. £45: a small price to pay for my happiness. I will talk, I will laugh, I will dance. I will be happy. “Tonight is strictly Johnson & Johnson,” said Olly this afternoon. “I know. No tears. Promise.” I replied. No more tears. I will not cry, I will be happy. With my booze and drugs, and flirting, and great music. We’ll listen to the Blues and talk the night away. I am not a drug addict.

I am me. I will be happy. Regardless of what it takes to get me there, tonight I’m checking in to the Hotel Happiness, because I deserve to. However I do it, I’m doing it.

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One thought on “Sex, and drugs, and rock and roll

  1. It’s nice to live life large again, as long as you can cope with the aftermath. That’s what really stops me from indulging. Take care.

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